Extra Longer

5 Nov

 

 

Things I hope you will love
extra longer:

Sitting in dark velvet quiet,
popcornpeeringready,
another world flickering and blue in front of you
both hand in hand,
remember the feel of rough fingers
like the bended fold
of a thick linen envelope.
Entwine arm in arm.
Save the date of the moment and
linger longer
than you might,
one moment maybe
just for me.

When the shower
cascades in percussive rounds
like a trembling cahone
off the rock of his beloved body,
listen a little longer
to water
singing the curve
of a road often traveled
by your once hot heart.
Catch the last note of the
stream like the intoning bell
calling All to notice
notice
notice
the moment,
each your gift.

Gather one drop
for me.

By the nape of his neck,
let your eyes fall like autumn shadow
over the dark slope
of tender openness,
let your view drape across
muscle bending toward the heat of collar
and brave bone.
Lean in.
Place your mouth there
extra longer,
tasting the gratitude in sweatmaking.
Roll onto a nightslept pillow
full of scent and salted musk,
breath him
in like a Second Coming.
He’ll return.
He always does.
Have you noticed,
not?

So when your hand finds the moss
covered cage of sinew and heart beat beneath
listen a little longer
for the rest of us;
our longing hovers above you like
a haint blue porch ceiling
whispering,
whispering,
Don’t you dare forget a miracle.
Cause you carry dreampromise
in your limbs and loving
like an autumn wind warning
the fury of frost
and lost leaves.

Taking Space

4 Oct

 

Five out of twenty nine.
As if with each caulked casement
leaving there is more room,
the air itself a rushing
love for lungs to drink.
Each cracked pane, each broken rope, each curling lip of lead
paint wrapped, carted away.
Wavy panes of perceiving
held together by bracing and time,
removed. Each day,
while I’m not watching.
Sometimes you don’t watch.
You lie still
and notice
when the house is opening,
and the dreams are leaking out somehow
like breadcrumbs for the Divine
to follow, gather,
and bring back to your bed
like lovebreath whispers
in the early light.

Quizzing Glass

24 Sep

Her eyes said to the professor,
Why don’t you stop studying me and
be with me.
And then she was grateful
to have become so very
alive,
not something buried then
unearthed,
a curiosity for
cataloguing.
But like a live oak,
limbs and leaves flush with green,
hung with soft sighing hair,
he was just unable to see
beyond the glass
in his own.

Texts Not Sent #57

18 Sep

 

Begins so casually.
Is there a Biscuitville where you are?
she starts to type.

And do you like
egg, cheese, and tomato buttered biscuit
Sunday midmornings
after coffee, after pajamas, after loving,
curving together half a dream in soft
tangles of limbs and lips,
after the first waterblue moment of quiet room,
noticing that three inches
from the bareness of
the back
of your neck
there is heat and beating heart under
the vulnerability of skin and vein
alive with the sound of oceanbreath…

Her thumb above the arrow.
And memory quietly said,
not to.

It is Good

13 Aug

We will not let hate win

 

It is good.
It is good to see and to be seen.
It is good to hold and to be held.
It is good, this heart like a low long river
washing the soul clean to its raw lining
like the side of quivering fish.
It is good to feel the promise in cleanness,
in the sting of what was.
In every broken bit there is one conscious atom
beginning to pull toward the mending line.
It is good to cry, to wet the shoulder, the hand, the sleeve,
let it travel out to salt sea
where the elephantine roll of the darkdeep unknown
will toss it’s misted curl to the sky
and dissolve itself into stillness.
It is behind your eyes, this close fearlove
I kiss your cheek.
You kiss mine.
Both are wet with ocean.
And it is good.

This is for Anyone who has Ever Lost Someone

10 Aug

This is for anyone who has ever lost someone:

You do not own the leaving.
You share loss
because you are loved.
Loss
spreads it’s watery wake
like a quilt over a coffin.
Too little comfort over a container
of what
needs answering before it’s buried
to dissolve.
It’s not that people really tire
of your long grief,
a slow low dissonant hum of unraveling.
It’s that the fraying of this patchworked shroud between us
reveals edges of other coffins,
slowly decaying in the corners
of their own heart’s attic.
They’d rather not see.
They’d rather not feel.
You do not have to get over it.
Only wait for there to be
nothing left but holy dust
on the shrine of your soul.
One day a gentle wind
will shift ever softly
and be enough.

On This Day: Facebook

10 Jul

I wonder.
Eventually, does one carve
the jade of the heart
into something beautiful?
Or is there some alchemy,
some elixir
that lifts
layer by layer
the stony cast of streaked green
revealing some pale promise of flesh
willing to flex
again.

Bitter

5 Jul

Awake at 6:20. WTF.
Ramble highlights of imaginary lives
via Facebook for an hour.
At least it lives up to its name.
Gratitude #1.

Write existential crisis poem.
Sigh.
Attempt to communicate via social media.
Realize dog must pee.
Realize no one wants to hear.
They just want to be seen.
Ditto.                                    Anyway.

Avoid stepping on the heel of guilt.
Think: Anything can happen today.
Gratitude #2?
Contemplate: Anything.

Breathe through the motion to cry.
Muster the energy of Gratitude #3:
I can flip back a comforter.

8:46. Exit bed.
Brew
coffee sweetened with cynicism.
Still bitter.

On Gratitude. On Faith. On Love.

10 May

Recently, I have been musing about the meaning of faith and the seeds of its growth: gratitude and love. This first public v-log has me wandering through how the writing of this blog and the journey it contains has given me an amazing gift. It’s a bit slow and reflective and I am not promising any entertaining value. But in the telling of it, I discuss treasure surprisingly discovered without a map. I don’t know if I will ever offer one of these again in the future; its personal. But this once felt right.

Be Well.

Platitude

20 Apr

“All you need is Jesus. He will fulfill all your needs, honey;  don’t you know that?”

“Love yourself completely. No one can love you unless you love yourself first.”

“When you give up the desire, it comes.”

“Accept what is and you will achieve peace.”

“Surrender, and then God will take care of the rest.”

“Love is Universal. There is no difference between types of love. It comes from everyone.”

“Accept people for who they are. Love their imperfections. Be the bigger person and love them no matter how they treat you.”

“You are only alone because you want to be. Nobody gets what they want.”

“They are men. Seriously, grow up.”

“When you aren’t looking, then the right person arrives. Stop Looking. ”

“If you build it, they will come.”

“Maybe be a little less confident. You know, men have fragile egos.”

“When you fix your thoughts, then the world changes. If you look at this negatively then it will be. Try to see the gift.”

“Everything is a lesson. What are you learning?”

“Be grateful. You could be in Syria.”

“All you need is yourself, babe.”

“Each day is an opportunity to start again. Don’t worry. It’s NEVER too late!”

“The only person holding you back is you. If you’d stop seeing the negative then you’d be happy.”

“If you move yourself into a place that feels the way you want to feel, then it doesn’t matter if what you want arrives.”

“Just join a ladies group. You’ll make good girl friends.”

“Suffering is pain times resistance. Make friends with the pain. Be with it. Stop resisting. Look at its texture and then your thinking about it will change. “

. . .said everyone (renunciate or householder)

already beloved of a calling,

of children,

of friends and family

of one other, above the rest.

Sharing the anchor of hands

within the deep fathomed current,

they toss toward me a wrinkled lifering of advice

about the dry dustshadow space in my heart,

an anomalous magnetic pull

bending its own needle toward a something nothingness.

This is the place where you should be

the one I want beside me,

our soul’s wisdom heaped like seed in a sack,

of hope to sow the world.

I’m not looking for completion.

I’m hungry for evolving into more,

swinging free of the pull of this black hole.

Platitude:

I never saw a starving man bow to bless

a dry plate upon which he must blame himself

for there being no bread.

No bread.

No fault.

That’s what Is.

Mercy is not found in gravity.

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